“I wasn’t spying.” Her head remained forward, her paces quick as she power-walked the path toward the parking lot like a determined contestant in a race. “I just happened to look in the direction of your apartment.”
It suddenly dawned on Mitch that he was barefoot and shirtless with nothing more than a pair of flannel pajama pants to keep him from freezing in these icy March morning temperatures. Binding his arms across his chest did nothing to keep him from shivering, so he cupped his hands around his mouth and breathed hotly into them.
“I didn’t think you were spying,” he said. He rubbed his hands together vigorously. “I was just measuring the window so I could order some blinds for it.”
“Yeah?” She turned to look up at him, her eyes dropping below his neck for the briefest moment before snapping back up. “That’s good. Blinds are good.”
“Listen.” Snow crunched between his toes when he took another stride toward her. How long did it take for frostbite to set in? He’d already lost all sensation in his feet. “I actually wanted to come by earlier and apologize for yesterday. Something felt really off when we ended our time together at the bakery. I wanted to make sure I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
The big tote bag on her shoulder started to slip down her arm. He reached out to move the strap back up, but she beat him to it. She hugged the canvas sack close like a security blanket. Or a big bag of flour. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, shaking her head, eyes pinched shut. “I just…” She opened them and gave him a helpless look. “I just was embarrassed about being so clumsy with the whole flour thing. That’s all.”
He hadn’t thought she’d been clumsy at all, just frazzled. Similar to the way she was acting right now, actually.
“If I did anything to make you uncomfortable, I’m truly sorry.”
“You’re a guy.” She shrugged, huffing out a breath that clouded the cold air. “You’re allowed to parade around without a shirt on.”
“Wait.” Mitch’s chin tugged back. “You acted the way you did because I took off my shirt?” He couldn’t hide the fact that he was, once again, sans shirt now, too.
“I’ve seen shirtless guys before, obviously. It’s not a big deal. But this is the third time I’ve seen you—”
His eyes narrowed. “You mean the second time.”
“Right,” she stammered, nodding so rapidly in agreement that she looked like a bobblehead character. “Yes. I meant second time. I don’t know why I’m being so weird. I mean, you have muscles, but they’re not like intimidating, you know? Just distracting. Really solid and washboard-y.”
“Washboard-y?” It wasn’t a word.
“You know what I mean. Anyway. I promise not to be weird about it anymore.”
“And I’ll try to be more…clothed from now on.” It was a strange thing to say. He knew that. But heck, this was a strange situation. He did everything he could to cover himself up now, but it really wasn’t possible.
Faith just stared at him for a moment like her eyelids had temporarily frozen open. She erased all expression from her face with a flick of her head. “I’ve got to get back to the bakery. I just came back home to grab an extra muffin tin.”
“You’ve already been at the bakery this morning?”
“I get there at four AM most mornings.”
He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t thought of that, but it made sense. With all the fresh items she served, she would have to get an early start on the day’s baking.
“Who’s there holding down the fort now?” he asked.
“No one.” She moved her tote from one shoulder to the other, shifting her weight on her feet, too. “We’ve been over this. I don’t have any employees.”
He was fully aware that the longer he kept her, the more revenue she would be giving up simply by being away during normal business hours. “Right. You mentioned that. You should get going then. And I should get inside. I’m freezing.”
“I’m sure you are.” She chewed on the inside of her cheek before she shuddered and looked away. “I’ll see you later, Mitch.”
“Later,” he echoed, already jogging backward in the direction of the stairs. It was going to take him a while to thaw once he got inside and cranked up the heater. There was certainly something to be said for wearing the appropriate attire for the elements, but it wasn’t like he’d planned on rushing out of the apartment like that. He’d just wanted to quickly clear the air between them.
Bounding up the stairs, Mitch jumped onto the landing with a thud. His limbs were icicles, his skin pebbled with tiny goosebumps. He couldn’t get inside quickly enough. His hand shot out and turned the doorknob. The door didn’t budge. Even when he bumped his shoulder into it for leverage, the solid wood wouldn’t move.
“No.” Jiggling the handle again, he felt the buzz of panic bloom in his chest. “No, no, no.”
He’d locked himself out. Of course, he had. In his haste, he hadn’t even thought twice about checking the door. The deadbolt wasn’t engaged, but that didn’t mean anything if the smaller lock on the handle was turned.
He wouldn’t be able to get in without his landlord or a locksmith. And he wouldn’t be able to wait until either could get there if he didn’t find himself some suitable clothes, or a warm place to hunker down until he could be rescued.
The guys at the firehouse would have a field day with this. Mitch supposed he could call one of his buddies to come by and help him into the place, but that would require some humility he didn’t think he’d be able to muster. Not as the newbie at the station.
